Chapter 1

"Celeste is back from the Royal Court. You’ve been together with Orla for three years. Three years, man. Why are you still stalling?"

When I arrived at the restaurant to pick up Jett, a voice that stopped me dead.

Jett’s reply cut through the laughter, smooth and entirely detached.

"Orla is manageable, quiet, and never demands much. I don't want to hurt her, but Celeste is a different story."

"Come on, everyone knows why you picked Orla," another friend scoffed.

"Because she has Celeste’s eyes."

The cruelty of the words shattered the quiet illusion I had guarded for three years.

Inside, Jett took a slow drag of his cigar, his silence offering a brutal confirmation.

"I was looking for Celeste’s shadow in her, yes," he murmured.

"If I feel guilty later, I'll just buy her a diamond bracelet to smooth things over. She-wolves are easy to please."

I looked down at my leather flats.

Three years of devotion. Nothing more than a replacement.

Deep within my consciousness, my wolf, Cyra, slammed against her cage.

“Break it,” Cyra demanded, her energy surging beneath my skin.

“Show this lower Alpha what happens when you mock a Sovereign.”

I didn't slip away into the rainy night. Instead, I planted my palm against the doors and threw them wide open.

The wood hit the interior walls with a deafening crack.

The laughter died instantly. Jett froze, his cigar inches from his lips.

"Orla," he stammered, a flicker of unease breaking through his composure.

"Jett Gareth," I cut in, my voice carrying a heavy authority that forced every Alpha in the room to look down.

I straightened my spine, letting the mental barriers dissolve.

My irises flared gold.

"I, Orla Wynne, recognize you as a faithless, unworthy male. By the blood of the First Lineage, I reject you as my destined mate."

A violent snap reverberated through the room—the literal sound of the soul-bond breaking.

The backlash hit Jett like a physical blow.

He choked, grabbing his chest as he fell to his knees, coughing dark blood onto the carpet.

His face turned ashen.

Yet, he wiped his mouth, forcing himself back to his feet, his chest heaving.

"A rejection?" Jett let out a rough laugh.

"You think a penniless rogue can just sever a fated bond? You're throwing a tantrum, Orla. You'll be begging for my forgiveness by tomorrow morning."

"You wanted Celeste?" I looked down at his pathetic display, completely unmoved by his posturing.

"She's all yours."

I walked out into the cool night air, a strange lightness settling over my shoulders.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in three long years.

It rang once before a familiar voice answered.

"Orla?"

"Hi, Dad," I said, watching the fog roll across the street.

"I'm done playing human in the lower territories. I'm ready to accept the arrangement."